


Laughing With a Mouth Full of Blood

by mayakovsky



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-12
Updated: 2012-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-31 00:30:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/337919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mayakovsky/pseuds/mayakovsky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every day he sanitizes his soul with evil, knows so much, sees so much. Sees like Sherlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Laughing With a Mouth Full of Blood

There's some twisted pleasure that burns in Jim's eyes when Molly isn't watching him, doesn't have her fingers that smell too much like formaldehyde and baby powder and antibacterial soap curled with his. It makes him laugh. Right under Sherlock Holmes's nose, he walks past in the second floor hall way whistling, _whistling_ even, and Sherlock doesn't even give him a second glance. He adds to his gait every day, turns his hips, makes it a dance. An invitation. A taunt. Sherlock still does nothing. It shouldn't make Jim laugh at night, but it does.

He and Molly fit in more ways than anyone would ever realize. True opposites, the prey and the hunter, good and pure and oblivious and disgusting, too open, Molly Hooper is. She lays for the world to see inside of her like the corpses she took lunch with before she met Jim, she lets them tear out her organs and seal them up, she lets Sherlock shove his hand in her, pull out what he needs, then messily sew her up with fakes smiles and compliments that aren't necessarily untrue (he notices her lipstick, her painted garish nails, the part of her hair, comments on the scent of the new hand soap she bought to mask the chemicals; he notices but in no way does he care).

Jim has a million invisible strings tied to his fingers. No, no, the invisible strings of fate that connect humanity, he _is_ the string. He is the twisted fate. London can't see him but he watches every line tangle, knot, pulls them apart with bombs and building collapses and tube threats, "accidents." Hands out guns and knives to kids like candy. He has no insides to dig through like Molly, nothing to find hidden within his ribs because he had extracted the mess years ago. Jim, he's sure not a soul exists who knows his real name anymore. Who knows what it's like when he smiles. Every day he sanitizes his soul with evil, knows so much, sees so much. Sees like Sherlock.

Sherlock and Jim are the same, noticing but not caring, taking from her what they want and need and masking it all with those ridiculous emotions like compassion, understanding, nodding and smiling.

He prides himself on being a better actor than Sherlock. Laughs, when he thinks of it as method. Tries on an understanding face in the mirror, slips it in to an easy smile, clips his ID to his jean pocket. Laughs.

It's too easy to hate Molly. She tries so desperately for just a second of a painful grimace from Sherlock. Jim's sure he's seen dogs with the same expression, trying to imitate the humans around it. He laughs.

When Molly invites him to dinner, hesitates a bit before saying, "I...I'm just not sure..." he wants to nod, wants to smirk, but instead he balls his hands in his lap and shoots her small and pathetic smiles, puts a tremble in his lower lip, says things like "you're great" and "I'm sorry, Molly" and "we could...we could be friends, you know." He means none of them. He bows to his audience, later, laughing. Drags a finger along the green underwear that he still wears.

The news hits Molly like a bus when Lestrade comes in, shakes his head when she tells him, "ah, Sherlock's in the lab upstairs, I can give him a ring if you'd like." Her eyes are wide, she nearly touches a gloved hand to her lips before she remembers the hydrochloric acid she had been handling with them, jumps and tugs them off her hands quickly. "But, he was so lovely. He worked in IT."

When he meets Sherlock - correction, when Sherlock meets _him_ , when John Watson's gun puffs its chest at him, tries to intimidate him, he smiles. Something in the gesture might have been human, a long, long time ago.


End file.
